


Where the Wild Roses Grow

by Among_Walkers_and_Angels



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: 1920's gangster fic, Angst, Drug Use, F/M, Fanfiction, Mentioned Physical Abuse, PTSD, Peaky Blinders - Freeform, Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 00:48:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16843798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Among_Walkers_and_Angels/pseuds/Among_Walkers_and_Angels
Summary: My very first Peaky Blinders fic! Inspired by the song Colors by Halsey.Originally posted on my Tumblrbadwolf-in-the-impala, as well as my WattpadPeakyFookinValkyries... moving all my fics over here so I don't lose them, since Tumblr has gone crazy... **insert eye roll here**





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My very first Peaky Blinders fic! Inspired by the song Colors by Halsey.
> 
> Originally posted on my Tumblr [badwolf-in-the-impala](http://badwolf-in-the-impala.tumblr.com/), as well as my Wattpad [PeakyFookinValkyries](https://www.wattpad.com/user/PeakyFookinValkyries) ... moving all my fics over here so I don't lose them, since Tumblr has gone crazy... **insert eye roll here**

Althea Lenore Bennett’s story starts on a cold December night, the year 1895, where she was born inside a tiny one bedroom apartment in Small Heath that belonged to her Mother, Eleanor. A widowed Tailoress who worked day in and day out, struggling just to keep shoes on her daughters feet for the first Five years of her life. But in the late Fall of 1900, just before Althea’s Fifth birthday, Eleanor met a wealthy American horse trainer by the name of Roger Bennett. He had been attending to business in Birmingham when he found himself inside their little shop. It was love at first sight, and they married within the following month before he whisked them away to live a new life in America. Everything was grand.

Althea was enrolled in the finest school they could afford and was provided with whatever her young heart desired; from horses to riding lessons, she had it all. Even going as far as to own and train her own racing stock by the age of Twelve, her Stepfather teaching her everything she would ever need to know about the horse world and the sport of racing. Some might have called her more than a touch spoiled, but she appreciated every bit of it. Knowing that without her Stepfather, she never would have had those kinds of opportunities. Her life was perfect in every way imaginable, and that was when tragedy reared it’s ugly head.

One month after her Thirteenth Birthday, Althea’s Mother fell gravely ill. Most days she wasn’t even able to get out of bed. Roger had payed for some of the best and highly recommended Doctor’s in New York only to be given the same diagnoses and outcome each time.

“It’s Consumption…” She remembered her Stepfather saying when he had finally broke the news. “They don’t expect her to make the years end.” The words he spoke had ripped through her like shards of glass, silently tearing her to pieces on the inside, knowing she had to remain strong and composed on the outside for the sake of her Mother; especially once Roger cut himself from the picture entirely.

Althea would always remember the day he left them for good. How she knew deep down inside that he would never be back, even though he promised he would be back. But he was gone, leaving them behind with nothing like they never even mattered, and she promised herself that he would never be forgiven in her eyes for breaking her poor Mother’s heart…for breaking her own heart.

At barely Thirteen years old, Althea had to grow up fast. She took up dressmaking and sold off her horses to wealthy breeders and trainers, putting the money toward their care and her schooling and before she knew it, Three years had passed by in a blur. Her Mother finally passing on Althea’s Sixteenth birthday, despite the original diagnoses the doctors had given her. But Eleanor had ensured seeing her Daughter married off before she went; knowing she would never fare well in an Orphanage.

Twenty years old when they married, Joseph Lawrence had been the Son of a good family friend and Tailor. He helped ensure and further Althea’s education after her Mother’s death, seeing her proudly trained as a Nurse by the time she was Eighteen.

Their relationship had been rough from the start, as Althea was more than a little headstrong and rebellious. But as the years passed, she actually grew to love him in her own way, making it incredibly hard when he was Drafted in 1914 and sent off to War. She to, soon finding herself on the Western Front when the American Red Cross called upon over 22,000 professionally trained nurses to serve in the U.S. Army starting in 1917.

Her days working in the casualty clearing stations out on the Front-Lines had been treacherous and nerve wracking. But she stayed. She was the only Matron that remained after their first month out. Three other Head Matron’s of her Unit coming and going before she was put in charge after the others fled back to the Hospital Bases. It was never easy, but she grew use to the constant battle they were stuck in the middle of. It was easier to save more lives by risking their own.

She could still recall nearly every face that passed through those Casualty Stations. The faces of the men she fought so desperately to save, day in and day out for over a year. Refusing to leave no matter the conditions. It wasn’t until the German’s bombed her camp that she was finally forced to leave. One of Ten people who made it out alive; carried out herself on a stretcher with her own share of battle scars from shrapnel. But even then she stayed, remaining at a British Hospital Base until the War was finally over and even after, she remained in England.

With nothing left back in America to go home too, not even a Husband, Althea having received a letter from his Commanding Officer detailing Joseph’s death two days after the War had ended; and while the rest of the world was celebrated, she found herself moving back to Small Heath. Hell bent on putting her own life back together.

But that’s the funny thing about War. It changes people, and not always for the better.

********  
Birmingham - 1919.

It had been over a year since the end of the War, and she still found herself waking from the Nightmares that plagued her head these days. Her once peaceful dreams replaced by images of the dying men she could not save and their terrified screams; the gore of explosions, gunfire, and incoming bombs. Often startling awake at the sound of the Air Raid sirens that no longer sounded on the daily, leaping from her bed out of habit still, only to find herself in the quiet darkness of her tiny apartment. The only sound filling the night air around her was that of her ragged breathing; her forehead and chest often slick with sweat.

Most nights she didn’t even dare close her eyes again once she was woken by the nightmares. Turning instead to the Cocaine and half empty bottle of Gin on her night table that she often used these days to self medicate. It being just about the only thing that kept her sane anymore.

Tonight was no different as she sat in front of her open window, relishing in the cool breeze that swept in gently across her face as she took a long pull off the cigarette she held in her left hand, leaving her right to run freely through her mess of long dark curls. Emerald eyes searching along the darkness of the quiet streets below as they often did till the early hours of Sunrise, waiting, almost as though it would give her some answer too a long awaited question asked years ago. But with the rising of the Sun, she set forth in her usual morning ritual, readying herself for the day that awaited her.

Using the wash basin she cleaned herself up before dressing in a long black skirt, stockings, white blouse and heels. Tying her dark curls up neatly before applying a thin layer of black liner to her eyes and a pop of red to her full lips. Studying herself in the mirror as she smoothed her hands down the front of her outfit, picking at little things here or there until it was to her liking before turning on her heel and heading out the door in search of a new job.

She had been going on nearly two weeks now without an income. Having been let go from her previous job as a secretary after a minor outburst involving a customer. and word of the incident had traveled fast. Most places turning her away or telling her no all together, leaving only the Pubs on her list, most of which were not in need of help. All save one that she had been pointed to the day prior.

A little place called The Garrison.

Tucked away at the end of Garrison Lane, some might think it to be an intimidating place. Most anyone with decent common sense strayed from entering to begin with. Owned by a member of the Shelby family; Birmingham’s most notorious gang was known to always be causing quite a stir of some kind. But not much frightened her these days, which could be seen as she strode inside with an unwavering sense of confidence, making her stand out from the other Women who were standing just inside. No doubt there for the very same reason she was.

“You ‘ere for the Barmaid position?” A young man who was sat at the bar asked as the door behind her closed.

“Yes.” She replied matter of factly. “I was told to speak to an Arthur Shelby.” The young man cocked an eyebrow in surprise, clearly not expecting her to have addressed him in such a professional manner. Nevertheless he nodded and knocked twice on the closed door of the private room that sat to her right.

“What?!” Yelled an irritated voice from the other side, causing the other two women behind her to nearly jump out of their skin. One actually taking the opportunity to take her leave.

“There’s a woman ‘ere to see ya ‘bout the Barmaid position.” The young man called back.

“Already told’ye, I’ve no interest in interviewin’ anythin’ tha’ looks like it’ll faint at the sight of Goddamn mouse!” The man yelled back, earning a half amused grin he couldn’t see as she stepped forward and folded her hands neatly behind her back.

“All due respect, Sir, I don’t faint for anythin’.” She called back confidently, waiting patiently as she listened to the shuffling around on the other side of the door for a brief moment before it flew open to reveal a disheveled, slightly hungover looking man she assumed to be Arthur Shelby. Taking a deep breath as he stood tall, he gave her a quick once over before seeming to have made a decision.

“Suppose not.” He replied as he slicked his hair back out of his face. “Sit.” He motioned for her to enter, closing the door behind them as she took a seat. “Whiskey?” He asked, motioning to the bottle which sat among many in the center of the table.

“Please.” She replied, placing a folder on the table between them before accepting the glass and taking a sip of the amber liquid that filled it; watching calmly as he picked up and skimmed over the papers inside the folder.

“You’any experience workin’ in a Pub before?” He asked as he tossed the folder aside, as expected. Looking rather bored with her past work history as he downed his glass of whiskey in one gulp, pouring himself another as he awaited an answer impatiently.

“No.” She answered honestly. “But I’m a quick learner and a hard worker.”

“Wha’ makes ye think you’re qualified then.” He scoffed, sitting back in his chair.

“I’ve plenty of experience working under pressure.” She answered, raising one brow with a stern expression as she continued. “Served as a Combat Nurse for over two years. So I’d say I know men an’ being in a rough environment pretty damn well by now.”

Arthur cleared his throat and sat up straight in his seat, taking another sip of whiskey before refilling her own glass which was now empty. “My apologies Miss-”

“Althea Bennett.”

Arthur glanced up briefly as the door behind her opened and closed, returning his attention to her quickly as he extended his hand out to her, shaking her hand lightly as she accepted the official greeting.

“Arthur.” He replied. “Pleasure to make ye’re acquaintance…” Turning his attention to the man who was now seated beside him, he frowned. “Ye’re bloody fuckin’ late.”

“Apologies.” The man replied in a bored tone as he skimmed over the discarded papers on the table. “Right, how many interviews ‘ave you done?” He questioned as he looked up finally.

She knew very well who he was as he raked his intense blue gaze over her, taking in what information he could just by her appearance as he awaited Arthur’s response. His sharp features set in stone as he held eye contact with her, waiting for her to look away uncomfortably from his scrutinizing gaze. But she never did.

“Righ’…” Arthur rummaged around through the mess on the table before turning up empty handed. “This one.” 

The man sighed in annoyance before taking a moment to light himself a cigarette, taking a long pull before exhaling and returning his attention to the interview. Arthur following suit, offering her a light as well which she gladly accepted.

“Wha’ makes you think an over qualified woman such as this one, needs to be workin’ in a shoddy joint like this?” He questioned, ignoring her entirely.

Althea frowned before clearing her throat, stopping Arthur before he could return the answer for her. “No disrespect –Mr. Shelby– I’m assumin’? But I’ll tell you the same thing I told Arthur ‘ere. I’ve plenty of experience workin’ under pressure. I work hard and I learn things fairly quick like. I served for over two years as a Combat Nurse, so I am fairly certain I can handle mah’self in this sort of environment. I’ve been turned away thus far for bein’ over qualified, so really, it’s this job or Whorein’…” She shrugged, taking a pull from her cigarette. “An’ that Mr. Shelby, is a line of work I am surly to over qualified for.” 

“I see.” The man replied, seemingly un-amused. “If you wouldn’t mind stepping out for a moment, I wish to speak to my Brother privately.”

“‘Course.” Althea replied, finishing her Whiskey before exiting the private room and taking a seat at the bar.

“Whiskey?” The man from before asked as she took a seat.

“Gin would actually be lovely if you ‘ave it.” She replied, earning a boyish grin from the lad who obliged by grabbing a bottle from behind the bar and pouring her a generous amount into a glass. She thanked him and sipped at it patiently as she waited. Several minutes ticking by slowly before the door was opened and Arthur and the other man stepped out.

Althea finished her glass in one swig before standing and smoothing down her skirt, folding her hands behind her back as she waited patiently for an answer she wasn’t sure she would get. Arthur elbowed his brother in the ribs after a few seconds of painful silence. Blue eyes nearly rolling back into his skull as the other man finally spoke.

“How soon can yeh start.” He sighed in annoyance.

“Well…” Althea glanced around at the state of disarray the Pub was currently in. “Judgin’ by the look’a things, I’d say now would be fantastic.”

“Very well.” The man replied, looking at his pocket watch briefly before returning it to it’s pocket. “I will have a contract of employment drawn up immediately. But first we have some other business to attend to. Come back in an hour and things will be in order for you to start.”

Althea smiled as she reached out to shake hands with Arthur and his brother. Thanking them both for their time before making for the door. Pausing for a beat as she pushed it open to step out, calling over her shoulder before the door closed for good.

“I promise ye won’t regret it.”


	2. Chapter 2

As promised, Althea returned to The Garrison after an hour as instructed. The Pub was still an absolute disaster, but she would be lying if she said she didn’t love a good challenge. Arthur showed her how to run things behind the bar along with what other tasks would need tending to before and after opening each day. She even went as far as to help the younger man from that morning –whose name she eventually learned to be John– haul up crates from the cellar and balance out the books before she set to work tidying the place up. Everything cleaned up and put back in it’s place in the span of Two hours; leaving the Shelby men who had gathered since her return, to stare in disbelief as she dusted her hands off and admired her handy work.

“Bloody fuckin’ Christ…” Arthur breathed in disbelief as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair, looking around the now immaculate Pub in awe. “Wha’ever in the hell y’er on, I wan’some!” Althea laughed gently as she took and seat, lighting up a well deserved cigarette and taking a long pull, exhaling with a smile.

“I was bein’ serious when I said I’m a hard worker.”

“Doesn’ seem like such’a terrible idea now, does it Tom?” John added with a grin, elbowing his older brother in the ribs. 

“Seems as though it would appear that way.” He replied, pouring several glasses of Whiskey and one of Gin, which he handed to her along with her papers of employment to sign “To new beginnings.” He toasted, everyone lifting their glass in agreement before throwing back the hard liquor in one swallow. Althea taking the fountain pen from Tommy and signing her name away gracefully with her left hand before pushing the papers back across the bar.

Althea then subjected herself to some gentle interrogation as she continued to serve drinks to the Shelby boys over the course of the next few hours, seeing it as a good way to pass the time until opening. But the celebrations and question asking were soon interrupted as a heavier set man with a slight limp came hurrying into the Pub, out of breath and hollering after Tommy who had left an hour prior.

“Fer Christ sake Curly, calm yer’self man.” Arthur spoke, standing to greet the man with a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Wha’s’all the ruckus about?”

The man drew in several shaky breaths before he finally composed himself enough to finally speak. “W-Where’s Tommy?!” He huffed, still out of breath. 

“The ‘ell if I bloody know.” Arthur’s answer was clearly not the one this man was looking for as he nearly broke down into hysterics. Rambling on about horses and curses and a bunch of other none sense Althea could hardly understand.

“I don’t wan’ta over step my bounds or anything…” She spoke up lightly, everyone turning their attention to her as she stepped out from behind the bar, handing Curly a glass of water which he willingly accepted as she continued. “I don’t know much abou’ curses, but I do know a good deal about horses. Perhaps I could be of some assistance?” 

Before Althea could even so much as blink, Curly was practically dragging her from the Pub and down the street, with Arthur following close behind and John headed off to seek out Tommy. The walk was short and soon they came to a fairly decent size stable. Curly nervously dragging her into a stall that held a big White Stallion; one of his front legs tied up to keep it off the ground.

“H-He’s cursed I tell’ye! It’s alrea’y s-spread to his other hoof, e’ll be dead ‘fore m-morning!” Curly rushed, clutching his cap to his chest like a crucifix. Leaving Althea to inspect the horse more closely as he kept rambling on and on to Arthur about someone called the Lee’s cursing the animal and how upset Tommy was going to be.

“Wha’ is it?” Arthur finally asked when she finished inspecting each hoof closely. The foul smell that hit her upon closer inspection was a dead giveaway. “Well, it’s not a curse.” She stated.

“Can you fix it?!” Curly asked hopefully. Althea barely having enough time to nod before he swept her up into a bone crushing embrace that sucked nearly all the air from her lungs.

“Fer’Christ sake Curly, don’t break the poor girl, we only jus’ hired her this morning!” Tommy’s voice called from behind them; Althea nearly falling backwards onto her arse as she was abruptly let go of, a firm hand catching her around the waist from behind and steadying her back on her feet as she turned, nodding to Tommy in thanks as she cleared her throat.

“Like I said, not a curse.” Althea repeated with a small chuckle, Curly grinning sheepishly as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “It’s somthin’ called Thrush…an’ while highly infectious, it can be cured if I can get’ma hands on the right ingredients.” She finished.

“‘Ere, write down wha’ever you need…John will run ‘an fetch it.” Tommy replied, handing her a small booklet and fountain pen, watching closely as she scrawled out each ingredient carefully in neat hand writing. “Will that be all?” He asked as she passed the booklet and pen back to him. 

“I’ll also be needin’ a clean stall with fresh dry bedding.” She added, turning to unbind the horses leg so he could be moved, clipping a lead rope to his halter while they waited for Curly to return.

“Over’ere, jus’ cleaned it me’self no more than an hour ago.”

Althea lead the Stallion to the fresh stall carefully, removing the lead rope once they were inside and slipping it around his front left hoof and carefully slipping it underneath him and out the opposite side; speaking to him gently, ensuring he remained as calm as possible as she draped the rope over his back and returned to his left side and gently hoisted his hoof into the hair. The Stallion heaved a sigh and tossed his head as she applied pressure, cause him to stretch backwards and lower his head, eventually lying down entirely. Curly applauded excitedly as she removed the lead rope and passed it off for him to hang up.

“Brilliant!” He exclaimed. “Like magic!” 

Althea chuckled softly and shook her head, taking the items John had just returned with and dropping down beside the horse. “Not magic. Jus’ years of growin’ up on a horse farm.” She replied as she set to work grinding up the necessary herbs she needed with a mortar and pestle, pouring a small amount of alcohol into to make a paste before setting it aside and dusting her hands off. “Alrigh’, which one a’ya brave souls wants’ta hold his head?” Tommy was the only one to step forward, kneeling beside the Stallion’s head and stroking his neck gently as he talked to him softly, watching carefully as Althea removed the Blazer from over her Blouse and laid it over the horses head before instructing him to hold onto it.

Carefully she picked up a front hoof and brushed it clear of all dirt and debris, gripping his pastern firmly in her left hand as she took a deep breath, the horse nickering in a stressed tone, almost as if anticipating what was to come next. “Y’er al’righ there Big Fella.” She reassured as she picked up the bottle of alcohol. “Gonna hurt like ‘ell…but it’s better than a bullet between the eyes.” The Stallion jerked and cried out as she poured the liquid onto the first hoof, quickly snatching a handful of paste from the bowl and applying a thick amount before covering it with a piece of cloth and tying it closed. Repeating the same method on all four feet just to be safe. “Be up ‘an chasin’ the Filly’s ‘round the yard in no time.” She said patting him fondly after removing her Blazer from his head.

“So, ‘ell be al’righ then?” Curly asked tentatively as he stepped forward clutching his cap again.

“He’ll be jus’ fine.” Althea reassured, brushing some dirt and muck from her skirt. “Remove the cloths tomorrow nigh’, the paste will fall off on it’s own, an’ make sure his stall is kept clean and dry…also make sure the stall he was in is properly cleaned so it doesn’ spread’ta any other horses.” Curly nodded, taking her hand in his own and thanking her profusely for all her help.

“Y’er an angel or somthin’s, I swear it!” Althea gave a small at the comment but shook her head.

“’Bout the furthest thing from it actually.” She replied, but Curly insisted that was nonsense before finally leaving to return to his work for the day; leaving only Althea and Tommy as everyone else had returned to The Garrison.

“Suppose I owe you a great deal of thanks.” Tommy spoke, lighting up a cigarette as he watched her tidy up the mess she’d made before grabbing her belongings; offering the smoke to her before lighting up another as they exited the Stable.

“I wouldn’ worry y’er’self ‘bout it too much.” She replied, taking a pull off her cigarette as they began walking. “You gave me a job when’ya didn’ have to. It’s the least I could do.” She shrugged. 

“’Least allow me to replace y’er clothes.” He suggested, but Althea politely declined. Insisting instead that she would just go home and clean up and change before returning to work. Tommy agreed and returned to The Garrison so that he could inform Arthur.

Home was a Twenty minute walk from the Pub, but Althea made it in Fifteen; climbing the three flights of stairs up to her apartment hurriedly in hopes she could get back to the Pub in a somewhat timely fashion. Pulling her key from her pocket she paused, glancing down to find a neatly wrapped brown package and note that sat at her feet. Rolling her eyes she bent to pick it up, opening her door and stepping inside her apartment and kicking the door closed with her foot as she opened the note, finding only a few simple words scrawled in neat cursive hand writing.

”I don’t accept no for an answer. –Thomas Shelby.” 

Setting the note aside with an amused grin, she carefully unwrapped the box, opening it to reveal a beautiful dark red dress. Althea gave a genuine smile at the gesture, but she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of returning to work with it in. Opting instead for one of a Royal Blue color out of her own closet before bathing and redressing quickly, returning back to The Garrison within the hour. Tommy taking immediate note of her outfit and cocking a confused brow at her.

Althea poured a glass of Whiskey and slid it across the bar for him to take. “The dress is lovely, really.” She spoke with a playful smirk. “Tad concernin’ye already know where I live…but lovely nonetheless. Maybe a touch over the top fer work.” She winked. 

“An’ who said anythin’ about it bein’ for work?” He replied with a smug grin, earning himself an eye roll as she poured him another Whiskey.

“I don’t give in tha’ easily, Mr. Shelby.” She scoffed playfully.

“Guess we’ll have’ta wait an’ see ‘bout that one now won’t we, Miss Bennett?” He replied, taking a sip of his Whiskey as he watched her carefully with curious blue eyes. 

“Call me Thea.” Being the only answer he received before she disappeared to the opposite end of the bar.


	3. Chapter 3

Two weeks had passed since Althea began her new job down at The Garrison, and things were going surprisingly well; save for the few drunken brawls that occurred on occasion, she seemed to be a hit with the customers. Most of which were shocked at first by her crude sense of humor and tough demeanor. Given the fact that she was a woman, they expected her to be like any other Barmaid they encountered. But the first time she physically threw a man out for grabbing her ass, they knew she was not someone who could easily be taken advantage of.

Though there was still the occasional git who had to test the boundaries. 

“C’mon gorgeous, quite bein’ such’a stiff!” The man’s voice boomed over the sound of the crowed Pub. He had been badgering her for over an hour to go home with him, drunkenly boasting that he’d show her a way better time than any other man could. Althea simply rolled her eyes, trying her best to ignore him in hopes he would eventually go away…preferably before she completely lost her temper.

John and Arthur were sat at a booth in the corner keeping a watchful eye on the situation. Knowing well enough already that she could hold her own, only stepped in when absolutely necessary; occasionally taking bets on whether or not the bloke would make it out the door still conscious. The current situation proving no different as they could see the agitation slowly edging into her features. 

Tommy, Finn and Ada joined them sometime later, interrupting them mid betting conversation as they sat down. “She even know about this silly little game you Gits play while she works?” Ada exclaimed over the noise, a hit of annoyance to her voice at her Brothers’ antics.

“Oh, aye.” Althea chimed in as she approached with a fresh round of Whiskey’s, clearing the table of the empty glasses that were beginning to clutter it. “I get a cut off the winnings…an’ let’s jus’ say that John’s a wee bit of sore loser.” She chuckled. 

“Sounds about right.” Ada laughed as her brother narrowed a menacing glare in their direction. “I like her already!” She added as she extended her hand out in greeting. “Ada; though I’m sure know tha’ already.” Althea nodded her head in response as she shook the younger girls hand.

“I’ve heard a fair amount.” She replied with a soft smile, returning the introduction politely. “Thea. It’s a pleasure to finally meet’ya.” Clearing the table of the empty glasses and bottles, she gave a quick courtesy. “Jus’ holler if’ye need anythin’.”

“She’s bloody gorgeous!” Ada gawked as they watched her disappear behind the bar again before turning to her brothers, a wry grin creeping onto her face slowly. “No wonder y’er’all so twitterpated.” A yelp escaped her lips as a mystery boot connected with her shin from underneath the table. “Rude.” She snapped.

Tommy rolled his eyes, taking a long pull from his cigarette before clearing his throat in an authoritative manner. “If we’re quite done behavin’ like children, there’s business needs discussing.”

“No sense of humor…” Ada sighed dramatically.

Althea watched from behind the bar as their table conversed seriously; no doubt about family or business matters. Tommy’s sharp features holding that ever familiar air of seriousness she’d grown used to the past few weeks. Fierce Blue eyes able to hold even the antsiest of audiences captive when he spoke. Often even finding herself captivated by the alluring beauty that was known as Thomas Shelby. Always reprimanding herself mentally for staring like a schoolgirl with a stupid crush…but still, she couldn’t help herself from stealing the occasional glance now and then. Glancing away quickly and busying herself again before he could notice. 

Distracted by her own thoughts, she was caught off guard as the man whom she’d been ignoring most of the night, caught her round the wrist and yanked her forward; nearly knocking the air from her lungs as her chest collided harshly against the bar, sending several glasses crashing to the ground. 

“Nows I’ve got your attention.” The man growled, free hand coming up to grip her jaw tightly, dragging her close enough she could smell the Whiskey rolling off his breath with every word. “Hows about yous and I blow this shitehole, an’ I’ll shows you a nigh’ you’ll never forget.” He added, fingers digging into her jaw and wrist painfully as he held her captive.

“Why don’t you fuck off,” Althea spat back through clenched teeth, attempting to pull away, the mans vice like grip tightening at her words. “an’ go find y’er’self a whore.” The hand on her jaw dropped away to strike her sharply across the face; the taste of copper filling her mouth the same time her own left hook collided with the man’s nose. The feel of cartilage and bone breaking beneath her knuckles bringing a satisfied smile to her face as her other hand locked it’s self in the mans hair, bring it his face down to collide with the wooden bar before releasing him. His limp body slumping to the floor with a loud “THUD”, the whole room falling silent save for John who was swearing under his breath as he payed up the wager he’d just lost to Arthur. 

“Anyone else?!” She snapped as she looked around the now silent Pub as she walked around the front of the bar, depositing a bucket of water on the crumpled body that lie writhing in agony on the floor before bending and grabbing the man by the collar of his shirt, hauling him to his feet as he clutched his nose.

“Fuckin’ bitch!” He exclaimed as she drug him out the door, tossing him into the street. 

“Tell me somethin’ I don’t know.” She shot back, the door slamming closed behind her as she returned to the bar. Snatching the money out of Arthur’s hand as she strolled by, wiping the blood away from her mouth on her sleeve. 

“Wha?” She exclaimed sternly from the other side of the bar, people quickly averting their gazes as they returned to their conversations. Althea tucking the money inside her apron and throwing back a shot of Whiskey to rid herself of the metallic taste in her mouth, while simultaneously cleansing her newly split lip; though it did nothing to quell the shaking of her hands as she returned to her work. Ignoring the heavy Blue gaze that was now transfixed to her every movement, like they were studying an untamed beast in a cage.

“She fits in exceptionally well.” Ada stated, sipping her Whiskey daintily as she stared across the table at her brother, who nodded stiffly in response, eyes never leaving the bar as he ordered John and Finn to walk Ada home; as well as instructing Arthur to make sure the man who had just been tossed didn’t loiter around as people started to leave for the evening.

Another hour passed before the Pub was entirely empty save for Tommy, and Althea who tidied up and counted out the till, adding that evenings earnings to the books quietly before setting it at the end of the bar for Tommy to lock up. Althea lighting up a smoke as he disappeared, pouring herself a generous three fingers of Gin, knocking it back all at once and placing the glass down gently as she stared off blankly. Tommy returning unnoticed a few minutes later, picking up another glass and refilling the empty one that sat in front of her; wild Green gaze snapping up to meet a calmer shade of Blue as the noise startled her from her thoughts. Althea drawing in a shaky breath as she took a quick pull off her cigarette.

“Thank you.” She spoke quietly, taking a careful sip.

“Where’d you learn’ta throw a left hook like that?” He questioned casually, lighting up a smoke of his own as he waited patiently. Blue eyes studying her features carefully.

“Combat Nurse is’a harsh profession.” She smiled in reply, the simple action forced and empty, void of any real emotion as she stared down at the bruised hand that held her glass. Knowing it would likely hurt more come morning. Tommy nodded, his expression softer than normal, understanding even, as he finished his drink. Standing and checking the time before returning the watch to his pocket.

“C’mon. I’ll walk you home.” 

Althea nodded stiffly, finishing her own drink before fetching her things and locking up. Walking along in silence down the street toward her apartment, noting the difference in atmosphere as people avoided their presence. A welcomed change compared to the usual catcalls and inappropriate slurs she usually received on her nightly walks home from The Garrison. 

“Y’er not goin’ to fire me, are’ya?” Althea spoke up after some time, breaking the thick uncomfortable silence between them, unable to stand it any longer as it stirred up an anxious feeling in the pit of her stomach. He didn’t appear angry about the evenings prior event, but she still felt the need to ask…given this job really was her last chance.

He laughed.

And while it was a pleasant sound, the action catching her off guard as she stopped walking, watching as he made it a few more feet before noticing she was no longer by his side. Turning he walked back to her, studying her expression closely before speaking. “Why would I fire someone for somethin’ simple as defendin’ themself?” He questioned with a more serious expression. Althea replied by wrapping her arms around herself as she withdrew from the conversation, shrugging lightly as she stared at the ground. Tommy sighed, shrugging out of his coat as he placed it around her shoulders carefully, noticing how she shied away absentmindedly from his touch. Clearing his throat, he placed a hand gently at the small of her back to urge her forward as they continued walking.

“No…I’m not going to fire you.”He added gently, Althea glancing up him out of the corner of her eye, almost skeptical, but she nodded any way. “If anythin’, I should convince Arthur ‘ta give you a fuckin’ raise for dealin’ with the shit you put’up with.” He watched as the corners of her mouth quirked up briefly into a smile before fading. A more comfortable silence falling between them for the remainder of their walk; eventually coming to a pause outside the rundown apartment building she called home. Tommy insisting on walking the entire three flights up to ensure she made it inside safely without being bothered.

“Thank you.” Althea finally spoke, her tone softer than usual as she unlocked her door before shrugging off Tommy’s coat carefully before passing it back to him. Withdrawing her hand a little to quickly when it brushed against his, leaving her to clear her throat awkwardly. “Goodnight, Thomas.” She added softly as she stepped over the threshold into her home, Tommy catching the door gently before she could close it all the way.

“Tommy.” He corrected her the same way she had him on her very first evening at The Garrison. The gesture earning a genuine smile as she nodded. His hand falling back to his side as he took a step back, pleased with the reaction as he allowed the door to fall shut. Lingering just long enough to hear the lock slid into place securely.

“Goodnight, Thea.” He spoke to himself quietly as he turned to leave. Not expecting her to hear it…

But she did.


	4. Chapter 4

The remainder of the night was excruciatingly long as sleep eluded her like a fox that was being hunted by a pack of hounds. Her nightmares had been especially gruesome as of recently, and with events of the evening still fresh on her mind, a haunting reminder of the terrible things she had to endure. The things she never talked about; kept carefully hidden under lock and key. But much like a Monster, they couldn’t be contained permanently…creeping out to consume and eat away at her in the dead of night, with it’s claws wrapped around her throat possessively as it drained what life from her it could. Little by little. Chipping away at the woman she used to be before the war…before the Western Fronts…before the abuse, the death, the torment and the guilt that turned her into the soulless shell of her once former self.

Filling her hollowest parts with Cocaine and Booze to try and numb the mental anguish she face every time she closed her eyes. Praying that maybe one day she might start to feel alive again, even if only for the briefest of moments. She wanted to feel human; needed to feel. The thought of feeling something other than broken, hollow, and alone, was all that kept her going most days. That hopeful glimmer just always out of her reach as she slowly struggled beneath the crushing waves of despair and loneliness. It being all she could do most days to even get out of bed and go on living, when she felt as though that she’d be better off buried six feet under.

She was fighting a losing battle.

Frowning at her broken reflection in the mirror, she gathered her dark curls up into a neat ponytail. Forgoing the effort of makeup she slipped on the outfit she had laid out neatly on her bed. Her usual black colored skirt paired with a deep crimson blouse, stockings, belt and matching heels. Checking over her outfit and tired appearance several times before deciding it would have to do as she grabbed her coat off the hook beside the door and opened it to step out of her apartment, nearly dying of fright as she was greeted by John who’s hand was still in mid-air as he’d been readying to knock. 

“Jesus Christ!” She gasped as her hand flew up to her chest. “You tryin'ta give me a heart attack?!”

“Sorry…” John smiled sheepishly. “Tommy sent me to fetch ya." 

Althea frowned as she checked the time. "Can'it wait?” She questioned. “I’m already late gettin’ to The Garrison an’-" 

"I’ve been personally instructed'ta take ya’ta Tommy.” John cut her off before she could finish. Althea frowned but nodded anyways and followed him out of the building and down the street. Things remaining silent between them until they passed by The Garrison.

“Where exactly is it we’re goin’?” She sighed, honestly wishing she’d stayed in bed.

“Tommy said'ta drop ya at the stables.” John replied as they rounded a corner, the stables coming into view. “Said he’d be along shortly." 

”‘Course he did.“ She mumbled under her breath as they stepped just inside the building, John instructing her to wait before disappearing as if he’d never been there to begin with. Althea letting out an exhausted sigh as she paced around impatiently for a few minutes, the sound of soft nickering catching her attention as she turned around to find the White Stallion she’d met previously poking his head out of a nearby stall. Nickering again and tossing his head excitedly now that he had her attention. 

"Hey there Big Fella.” She smiled, wincing as the cut on her lip stretched painfully. The horse nudged her shoulder gently as she reached up to give him a scratch behind the ears. “Glad'ta see y'er feelin’ better.” She added, stroking her hand along the beasts muscular neck. The horse heaved a contented sigh as he rested his head over her shoulder, soaking up every bit of affection Althea was offering.

Meanwhile, Tommy had come round the corner, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he leaned up against one of the stalls, watching as the two interacted. The smile fading as he noted the all to familiar look of exhaustion Althea wore, weighing down her delicate features. But even with the absence of makeup –which made the dark circles beneath her Emerald eyes stand out more –she was still undeniably beautiful. 

“Thanks too you, no less.” He finally spoke up, catching her attention as a trail of smoke curled away from his nose as he exhaled the smoke from his cigarette. Althea turned, allowing her hands to fall back to the pockets of her coat as she did so, the horse snorting in protest at the lose of contact. Tommy chuckled and stepped forward, patting the horse on the forehead, “Alrigh’ don’t go gettin’ greedy now.” He warned the steed in a playful tone. 

“How’re 'is feet?” Althea asked softly, sneaking in another scratch beneath the horses chin as she glanced up at Tommy through thick lashes. Green eyes tired but patient as she attempted to make small talk.

“Like nothin’ was ever wrong.” He replied, taking another pull from his cigarette before offering it to Althea who accepted. Wincing as the action caused her lip to ache, though she did her best to hide it. “How’s y'er hand?” He asked, changing the subject. Lifting a hand to turn her head as he examined the bruises along her jaw.

“It’s seen worse.” She shrugged, earning a quiet 'Hm’ in response as Tommy withdrew his hand. “Why am I 'ere, if you don’t mind me askin’?" 

"Figured ye'might like a day off.” He shrugged. Those ocean Blue eyes falling upon her delicate features. Observing as she nibbled the undamaged side of her full lower lip gently, processing his words carefully before nodding.

“Don’t remember the las'time I even had a day off.” She stated quietly. “Alrigh’…suppose it couldn’t hurt none.” She sighed, watching as a small smile crept onto Tommy’s features. “I’m assumin’ this means I’m at y'er mercy for the day then.”

“Perhaps.” He mused.

“Goin’ home'ta sleep is off the table then, I assume?” Althea sighed dramatically, though the look in her eyes was of a lighthearted nature, rolling them playfully as he nodded in response. “Well, considerin’ I severely lack in that department these days, I hope f’er y'er sake it’s worth it, Mr. Shelby.” She added as they began to walk out of the stables. 

“I doubt it’ll disappoint.” He replied with a playful grin as he lead them around the stable to where he had parked his car upon arrival. Opening her door and helping her inside before moving around to the driver side; the engine roaring to life as they sped off toward open country road. Althea relishing in the feel of the wind coming through the side window as they drove, allowing herself to relax some as it seemed to smooth away her troubles temporarily. Tommy glancing every so often out of the corner of his eye.

“I’ve not been in'a car in ages.” She spoke up finally after some time, brushing a few stray curls from her face as she glanced over him, propping her cheek against her left hand gently as she rested her elbow at the edge of the window. Tommy turning to glance and nod at her briefly before turning his eyes back to the road, choosing not to press the subject as he could already guess the answer by the detached look that formed in her eyes for the briefest of moments…as though some distant memory tried to push it’s way to the surface, only to be stuffed back down and buried quickly as Althea turned back towards the windows. 

“Better circumstances this time 'round.” She added quietly as her hand drifted absentmindedly to her right shoulder for a brief moment before letting it fall back into her lap as she turned her attention back to Tommy who remained silent. “So, where exactly are we goin’? 

Tommy threw her an amused grin but remained quiet, earning himself an eye roll as Althea turned her attention back to the road in front of them as they came around a small bend before approaching a hill; the car climbing to the top with ease before Tommy killed the engine and climbed out. Althea giving him a skeptical look, but she didn’t ask questions, instead taking his arm as he offered it to her and lead her forwards toward the edge. The hilltop over looking a small valley that held a large chunk of property, and on it was a stable and race track; the horses easily view-able from where they stood. 

"Alrigh’ … You have my attention.” She stated, crossing her arms over her chest and tapping her foot as she awaited an explanation. Knowing there had to be more to the situation than previously expected. 

“Your vast knowledge of the Equine species intrigues me.” He started simply, eyes fixed out over the landscape as he spoke. “I’ve had trouble findin’ a decent Horseman who knows what the bloody'ell their doin’.” He sparked a match, lighting the cigarette that hung from between his lips, taking a long pull before turning his attention down to Althea. “I’ve gathered you know more than'a fair bit…maybe even more than curly.” He trailed off, offering the cigarette to her, one eyebrow raised beneath his cap.

“Aye…y'er point being?” She replied, drawing the smoke in as she stared back at Tommy, her own brow cocked in the same matter as she allowed the smoke to roll from her parted lips, pulling it back in through her nose and exhaling again; passing the smoke back as she tipped her head to the side.

Tommy licked over his lower lip quickly before taking another pull and continuing. “Firstly, I need to ensure the new horse I’m buyin’ is worth the money…and secondly,” He passed the cigarette again. “I’m offerin’ you the opportunity ta'do the training. If y'er interested. I realize y'er commitment to The Garrison is important to’ye, 'nd I’ve already spoken to Arthur, who’s agreed'ta let'ya split y'er time should you accept my offer.”

Althea mulled the offer over in silence for a several minutes, staring down thoughtfully at the stables below as she finished the cigarette she’d bothered not to return. It had been years since she’d worked around horses, and she wouldn’t deny that she missed it something terrible. Sighing to herself she turned to face Tommy again. 

“I’d likely be a fool'ta say no.” She replied, extending her hand out to shake on the deal; caught by surprise when instead of shaking her hand, Tommy pressed his lips gently to her bruised knuckles before releasing it back to her. Althea clearing her throat lightly, before speaking again. “So, where’s this horse?”

It was a short drive back down the hill and around to the stables, a stout little man approaching them as soon as they pulled round the drive, greeting Tommy with a firm hand shake when they exited the car. Introducing himself as Mr. Bessler, the Stable Master. He and Tommy exchanged small talk briefly before they were then lead to one of two large stable buildings; leading them along the corridor until they reached a stall that contained a large black Stallion. The horse pacing back and forth in the confined space like a wild beast in a cage. “Fastest bloke in the trainin’ yard righ’ now.” The man spoke proudly. “But ‘es got one ‘ell of’a attitude I tell’ya. Can’ seem to find a rider who ain’t afraid’o’him.” 

The horse flattened his ears at the sound of the mans voice. 

“May I?” Althea asked, gesturing toward the stall door. The man and Tommy exchanging a glance before he fetched a lead rope and handed it to her. Taking a step back as he motioned towards the door.

“Y’er funeral.”

Althea rolled her eyes and pushed the door open gently, dropping the lead rope into the shavings as she approached fearlessly. The Stallion perking up an ear curiously as she stopped, leaving a sizable gap between them as she extended her hand out for the horse to inspect. Waiting patiently for several minutes; still as stone, allowing for the rest of the world to fade into background noise as they stood there. Dark eyes watching her cautiously as he extended his neck forward, nostrils flaring and puffs of air brushing out over her hand as he sniffed thoroughly; snorting in approval as he straightened. 

Althea grinned in return as she approached him all the way, still careful not to frighten him as she worked her way around him. Checking legs, feet, muscle tone, and looking for any small flaw that would damage his chances of making a good race horse. Everything checking out to her liking after several minutes of in depth observation, patting the horse fondly on the neck in approval before stepping back.

“How old?” She questioned the Stable Master.

“Jus’ turned 3.” He replied, clearing his throat and trying to pretend his expression hadn’t just been one of mild shock. 

“Can I see ‘im run?” 

The man barked out a laugh in response, earning a rather un-amused look from Althea as she picked up the lead rope and clipped it to the horses halter, turning with both hands propped against her hips. Raising a disapproving brow at the action. “Aye, you can see ‘im run alrigh’, but it ain’t gonna be with a rider…my employee’s won’ so much as go near tha’ cheeky devil anymore.” 

“Suppose you bes’ find me some trouser an’ boots then.” She replied smartly, tugging the horse forward out of his stall and down the aisle before the man could try and persuade her. The man stumbling over his words as he tried to find an appropriate response, eventually giving up after a few minutes when Althea had successfully finished tacking up the stallion; offering her the requested clothing and a vacant stall to change before leading them out to the short track once she had finished.

“I really mus’ express my deepest concerns Mr. Shelby.” The man huffed out as he tried to keep up with them. “This is likely’a terrible decision on y’er lady friends behalf!”

“I’ve faith she’ll be jus’ fine.” Tommy replied, silencing the man from protesting any further with a warning look. “She’s a might tougher than she looks.”

“’Course Mr. Shelby…forgive my rudeness.” The man replied as they turned their attention to where Althea was walking the horse in tight circles in front of the starting gate. Patient as the horse refused each time to enter. 

“He’s a might touchy ‘bout the gate, Ms.” Althea stopped and turned her attention to the man, quirking an eyebrow as she waited for him to continue. “Tried everythin’ta get ‘im over it…nothin’ seems to work…I can get ye a whip if you’d like?”

“Are you insinuatin’ that your method of desensitization is’ta beat him?” Althea replied with an appalled expression. “There, Mr. Bessler, is your problem.” She sneered. “You don’t punish somethin’ fer bein’ afraid.” Motioning for one of the helpers to open the gate doors as she positioned the horse several feet in front of the opening. She passed the reins off and walked through it; back and forth several times. The horse watchful but still antsy as the helper struggled to keep hold of the sizable animal. Settling almost instantly as Althea took hold of him again and tugged him gently forwards as they made several laps around the contraption before standing at the entrance once more.

“Hold ‘im steady and do as I tell ye.” She stated as she passed him off to the helper once more. The boy couldn’t have been more than Sixteen, and it was all he could not to cower as he clutched the reins for dear life, the horse becoming restless again as he fed off the boys nervous energy. Althea sighed. “What’s y’er name?” 

“I-It’s J-Johnny-” The boys stuttered nervously. “M-Ms.”

“Thea.” She corrected gently, placing a firm but reassuring hand between the horses eyes as she lowered his head in an attempt to calm him some. “Right then; now, Johnny, I’m gonna need’ya’ta take a deep breath and stop shakin’ so much…the sound of’ya knees knockin’ together is scarin’ the horse.” The boy nodded quickly and tried to compose himself the best he could as he drew in several deep breaths. “Good…now jus’ hold ‘im steady an’ follow along.”

Taking a careful step backwards into the starting gate, Althea clucked her tongue at the horse and tugged forward. Murmuring too him in a soft voice as she stroked his forehead gently. The horse reluctantly putting one foot in front of the other.

“There’ya go…that’s it.” She praised him softly, taking several more steps until they were out the opposite side. Motioning for the boy to drop the reins as she patted the horses neck. Pulling him around and repeating the process until the horse had lost all signs of hesitation and could stand inside with the gates shut. 

“Give me a leg up.” She stated as she gathered the reins and a bit of the horses mane in her left hand, and the saddle in her right. The boy, Johnny, helping to hoist her up onto the horse. Grabbing onto the reins as he reluctantly guided them into the starting gate before circling back around to close them in. The stallion letting out a distressed cry as tried to back himself out.

“Shh! It’s alrigh’.” Althea remained calm, stroking the horses neck until he’d settled enough that she could take the proper position. “I know y’er scared…an’ that’s alrigh’…it’s okay’ta be afraid sometimes.” She reassured softly.

“Ms.?” Mr. Bessler called hesitantly as he picked up the rope to release the gate. “Are ye sure ‘bout this?”

“Jus’ pull the damn gate!” Tommy’s voice echoed her own, but before she had time to react, the gate flew open and she was jarred forward as the horse beneath her exploded out from the starting gate like a bullet being fired from a gun. The training track was only a mile long, and they breezed through it in what seemed like the blink of an eye. Coming to an abrupt halt back in front of the starting gate. 

“Well?” Althea asked, nearly as breathless as the horse beneath her was. 

“Minute an’ a half.” Mr. Bessler replied; his expression astonished at what he’d just witnessed as Althea dismounted gracefully and patted the horse fondly on the neck.

“An’ y’er askin’ how much?” She added.

“I- er…5000 pounds…” The Stable Master replied, giving her a confused look.

“He’ll give you 3000, an’ not a cent more.” Althea replied as she tugged the horse back in the direction of the stables. 

“Right…you ‘eard the lady.” Tommy chuckled, the Stable Master agreeing without argument as he lead them in the opposite direction.

An hour or so had passed before Tommy returned to the stables, papers in hand, to find Althea re-dressed and talking to the horse softly as she stroked his forehead. Her attention turning to him expectantly as he leaned against the side of the stall. “Judgin’ by the look on y’er face and the absence of Mr. Bessler, I’m goin’ to assume you got a fair price.” 

“Practically a steal.” Tommy grinned as he held up the papers.

“Good.” Althea smiled softly as she scratched under the horses chin before stepping away. “I assume Mr. Bessler wasn’ impressed.”

“Mm.” Tommy chuckled with a grin as he pulled the cigarette tin from his pocket, offering it to Althea first before grabbing one for himself. “Not at all.”

“E’ll be a fine horse with the righ’ trainin’.” She assured, taking a long pull from the freshly lit cigarette before exhaling and taking Tommy’s arm as they walked back towards the car. Noting that it was somewhere around late afternoon as she glanced up to where the sun was peaking through the clouded grey sky. 

“I don’ doubt it.” Tommy replied. “You’ve a fine way with horses.”

“Tha’ was nothin’ special.” She tried to brush off the compliment as he opened her door and gave her a hand inside. 

“Tha’ horse you jus’ so boldly rode, hasn’ been ridden in over a year. ‘Es been mistreated, beat, an’ feared ‘cause not one person knew how’ta handle ‘im. But you jus’ hopped up on ‘im like it was nothin’…seem’s pretty damn special if’ye ask me.” He replied. Closing the door and making his way around to the driver side. “You doubt y’er self too much.”

Althea tried to hide the flustered blush that crept onto her cheeks as he fired up the engine and sped off out off towards the road. The ride remaining silent until they pulled up in front of her apartment building. Tommy cutting the engine and exiting the car to help her out, walking her inside as usual as the last bit of sunlight had faded from the sky. That three flight walk was quiet and seemed to take longer than usual, but Althea enjoyed the company never the less. Even if the silence was a little awkward. 

Tommy cleared his throat as they reached the end of the hallway and stopped in front of her door. “I appreciate y’er help today; as well as ye acceptin’ my offer.” 

Althea chuckled softly as she pulled her key from her pocket and unlocked her door. Ignoring the questioning look she was receiving from those ocean blue eyes that watched her every move.

“Always so formal, Mr. Shelby.” She joked, rolling her eyes playfully before turning to look up at him. Caught completely off guard when his lips unexpectedly collided with hers, sending a small jolt through her entire body as she pulled away after a few moments. Her green eyes wide with shock as she opened and closed her mouth; words evading her.

“Goodnigh’ Thomas.” They were the only words she could eventually manage to get out as she quickly escaped into her apartment. Slamming the door a little harder than intended right in Tommy’s face. Her back pressed against the door firmly, her eyes closing as her fingers ghosted over the lingering sensation on her lips.

Leaving Tommy, alone in the dark. Curse himself for being an impulsive idiot.


	5. Chapter 5

The weeks seemed to pass by in a blur filled with work, whiskey, cocaine, and avoiding Thomas Shelby. 

Althea had made it her soul purpose to disappear whenever he came into The Garrison or the stables. Her head had not ceased to stop spinning since the night his lips had touched hers so unexpectedly; and she hardly slept since. Her mind a whirlwind of emotions – many of which she had not felt in years –overwhelming her senses to the maximum level each time the memory came up. So she did what she was best at…she buried every feeling that had tried to surface in an attempt to steal a breath of air, so that they might start to thrive once more, only to be shoved back down as far as she could manage. Not that it seemed to make any difference. 

Because Thomas Shelby was already in her head. 

She was worn down and exhausted, fueled most days only by the unhealthy amount of cocaine that kept her from falling asleep. Kept her from falling into that vast nightmarish pit of despair she called sleep. She had a hard enough time getting much enough before Tommy’s kiss with the night terrors and all, but now, now that stupid kiss was all that haunted her very existence. Her mind coming up with new unbelievably cruel ways to torment her every time she closed her eyes at night; drawing the line when her present started to blur into her past.

The dream had felt so real. 

Right down to the gut wrenching feeling of horror in the pit of her stomach as she watched, frozen and helpless as the world broke apart around her. It had started off so innocent and harmless. The first real dream she’d had in ages, and she was happy. Smiling and laughing as they walked along the canal, arm in arm, enjoying the sweet Spring time air as the sun shone down on them brightly, warming away the chill of Winter from their bones. Something so rare and magical. Her hands brushing along the wild Roses that grew over the canal walls gently, stirring up their sweet aroma with each touch, relishing in the calming scent until her attention was pulled to the familiar sensation of a thorn burying it’s self in her finger.

Pausing, she turned her right hand over to examine the crimson liquid that fell in tiny droplets to the cobblestones beneath her feet. The atmosphere around them shifting as the sky darkened and the world fell silent, almost as though time had stopped all together as she stood. The Cobblestone turning to mud beneath her feet, and the sweet aroma of Spring replaced with the putrid scents of death. 

The Silence broken by the deafening roar of the Fokker fighter planes overhead. Emerald eyes lifting from her bloodied finger to the images of horror that suddenly surrounded her. That beautiful canal, now a gore filled trench, full of men and shouting as they fired upon the enemies that fast approached. Bullets and screams split the air as she watched on in horror. Bombs spiraled to the ground, hitting soundlessly as they exploded all around, taking life in massive waves of uprooted earth.

Then she saw him, running towards her; the screams that fell from his lips were silent, but she could make out her name. His hands flailed wildly in an attempt to move her from where she stood, but she remained frozen. Watching in horror as the bomb that hurdled to the ground between them finally struck with an audible **BOOM** everything going dark as she bolted upright in her bed.

They were images not so easily pushed from her thoughts these days; as one never forgets the sounds of death. It made her uneasy every time she found herself in the same vicinity as Thomas. Reminding her how simple it was for that feeling of blissful happiness to be ripped away…and it was always, somehow, ripped away in the end.

“Oi!” The sound of Arthur’s voice breaking through her thoughts scared her nearly half to death. The glass she had been cleaning was sent crashing to the grounf, shattering loudly as her back collided with the counter behind her. “Christ woman, the ‘ell’s gotten into ya?!” 

“I’m sorry.” Althea quickly apologized as she snatched the bar towel and bent to clean the mess she had just created. Stopping as Arthur rounded the corner behind the bar, entering her field of vision as he knelt down in front of her, grabbing her hands gently and pulling her up to her feet. Leading her out to a table and sitting her down before pouring a glass of Gin and pushing it towards her. Stopping after she’d downed the second one in a single go.

“You need’ta lay off the Snow ‘fore ye bloody kill y’er’self.” Arthur sighed as he sat down, plucking the match she was struggling to keep steady from her hand, and lighting the cigarette between her lips for her. She nodded guiltily as she took a long pull, exhaling shakily as she closed her eyes. Pinching the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger as she tried to push down the anxiety that was flooding her body slowly, creeping dangerously close to the surface as it threatened to come pouring out.

“I’m sorry…” She whispered again quietly.

“Oi…” Arthur replied gently, reaching out to pat her arm reassuringly. “Stop apologizin’.” Althea opened her eyes, greeted by a rare, sympathetic, look from the eldest Shelby brother that sat across from her. Brows creased with worry as he refilled her glass and set it down in front of her once more. Althea sipping at it this time around.

“Go ‘ome for the day, get y’er head straight.” He instructed, filling his own glass with whiskey as he sat back in his chair, raising a hand to silence her from protesting. “We’ll manage jus’ fine with’ou you for a nigh’.” He added. “I mean it.”

Althea remained quiet but nodded in agreement. She hated being told what to do, but for once she didn’t have it in her to argue the matter. Instead, she finished her drink and pushed herself to her feet, thanking Arthur quietly as she feigned a small smile before retreating out the door; coat in hand.

“Girls ‘bout as damaged as they come.” Arthur sighed with a shake of his head, looking up to find Tommy who had been concealed in the shadows against the wall by the back entrance. His expression as cold and unreadable as always, but this time around, there was something more buried underneath it as he watched the door swing shut behind Althea.

Concern.

The sound of knuckles being rapped against her door roused her from the Whiskey fueled nightmare into which she had slipped. The bottle that still sat by her bedside was sent hurtling to the ground as she fumbled to retrieve the revolver from her nightstand drawer; a sense of panic sweeping over her as her whiskey clouded mind tried to decipher what was going on. Becoming more aware as the noise sounded again. Three sharp beats, then silence. Althea stood slowly, careful to avoid the glass shattered beside her bed as she crept towards the door soundlessly. Save for the audible click of the hammer of the gun being cocked.

“It’s Thomas.” 

A breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, swept past Althea’s lips as the familiar deep voice spoke up from the other side of the door. Disengaging the hammer of the gun before unbolting the door and letting it swing open. Not caring for the moment she was dressed in nothing but her slip. Pushing the stray hair from her sweat soaked forehead as she glanced to the clock above the wood stove; noting it to be well past Midnight.

“I almost shot you…” She grumbled crankily as she stepped aside, motioning for him to enter so she could shut the door. Scowling at several nosy neighbors who had already poked their heads out to inspect what was going on. “To wha’ do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Shelby?” 

Turning, she steadied herself with a hand against the shelf beside her. Closing her eyes briefly as she took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Watching as those crystal blue eyes flicked from inspecting the scars that crept over the exposed skin of her right shoulder back up to meet her own green gaze. Althea cleared her throat awkwardly, breaking away from Tommy’s stare as she crossed the room to grab the robe that hung from the dressing screen beside her vanity. Tugging it on and drawing it closed around herself tightly.

“There’s been a small incident at the Garrison.” Tommy cleared his throat. “Seems some’a the lads may require medical attention.” Althea nodded, turning to reach up for the medical box that sat collecting dust upon a shelf, struggling for a moment on her tiptoes before finally pulling it free and bringing it over to the table. Popping the latches and drawing the lid open to inspect the contents carefully.

“Anythin’ that’s goin’ to require stitching?” She asked casually, glancing up at Tommy like this was a completely normal request. Her brows furrowing as she finally focused enough to notice the cuts that adorned his cheek and lower lip, and the tinge of a bruise that was forming beneath his left eye.

“Most likely.” He replied. “I do apologize f’er disturbin’ you so late.” He added, hands shoved into the pockets of his overcoat, watching carefully as she inventoried the medical box to make sure she had the proper items needed. 

“You wouldn’t be askin’ for my help if it wasn’ important.” Althea replied as she closed the box and disappeared behind the dressing screen. Throwing on a simple worn green work dress and medical apron, which she tied off around her waist before slipping into her heels and grabbing her coat. Green eyes narrowing at Tommy as he collected the medical box before she could reach for it herself, but she held her tongue as they turned to leave. Snuffing out the few lanterns that still burned, dimly, one by one; darkness enveloping them by the time they reached the door.

“Don’t trip.” Althea quipped as the door swung shut behind them. Missing the roll of Tommy’s eyes as she disappearing into the darkness of the hallway, leaving him behind as she descended the stairs and stepped out into the cool night air. Inhaling deeply as she lit a cigarette and leaned back against his car. Waiting patiently for him to catch up. Offering him the other half of her unfinished cigarette as he finally emerged from the building and gave her a hand up into his car.

The ride remained silent as they sped along the empty streets. The scenery was different, and even in the dark, she knew they weren’t going to the Garrison. But Althea remained quiet as they drove, choosing not to ask questions as it seemed pointless. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for the Shelby boy’s to get into a good brawl here of there at the Pubs. In fact, it didn’t take much to get Arthur riled up, and that’s usually all it took, though injuries were usually minor and nothing anyone bothered to fret over. So for Tommy to approach her – especially after how she’d treated him as of late – it had to be of a somewhat serious nature.

Eventually the car slowed and came to a stop outside of a building, number Six Watery Lane to be exact. Althea picking up on the ruckus happening inside as soon as Tommy cut the engine. The yelling loud enough it could likely be heard from down the street if one dared to listen close enough. Tommy offered her a somewhat apologetic look for what he was about to throw her into as he guided her towards the door, throwing a final glance over his shoulder before pushing the door open and ushering her inside…into complete and utter chaos. 

But it was like a switch inside her had flipped the second she stepped across the threshold. She was suddenly back in the peaceful chaos of the Front Lines she was so used to. That familiar sense of calm taking hold as she tied her hair back and pushed her way through the small crowded room like she owned the place. Things falling silent as she ordered the two Peaky boy’s – who had hold of John’s right arm, readying to force it back into joint – to take a step back before they could do more damage. An older woman narrowing her gaze skeptically in her direction, gaze snapping to meet Tommy’s in an unspoken question. His nod signifying that she could be trusted.

“You ‘eard the lady, move!” She barked, sending the boys scattering somewhere to the back of the room as Althea took over. John wincing as she prodded around the dislocated appendage, assessing the severity of the injury and frowning.

“You’re lucky they didn’ break y’er fuckin’ arm.” Althea stated sternly, raising his arm with her left hand as she turned to grab the unopened bottle of Irish Whiskey that suddenly appeared on the table along with her medical box. Prying the cork free with her teeth and spitting it out back on the table, she held the bottle out to John.

“Drink.” She ordered, waving over one of the larger men to hold him steady from the other side and snatching the bottle back to place on the table. 

“Alrigh’ count of three then…One.” An audible crack filled the room, as she carefully forced the shoulder back into it’s rightful place. A startled yelp leaving John’s lip as his free hand balled into a fist and collided with the table.

“Bloody fuckin’ Christ, woman!” John gasped out as he looked up at her, blue eyes wide. “You said three?!” Althea cocked an eyebrow and placed a hand upon her hip as she stared back at him.

“If you honestly expected me to count to three, y’er an idiot.” She retorted, a hint of sarcasm underlying her tone as she moved to lay his arm against his chest, pulling a bundle of bandages from her box and working carefully to bind the injured limb in place. Turning then to tend to the few small cuts that were scattered about his face before moving on to Arthur – who was sat across clutching a towel to his face – once she was satisfied. 

“Thought you could handle things with’ou me?” She questioned sarcastically as she pulled the towel away from his face carefully. Blood trickling freely from a deep cut above his brow as the pressure was removed. Swapping out the blood soaked towel for a clean one, she passed him the bottle of Whiskey before digging out all the necessities to sterilize and suture the wound. Arthur grumbling drunkenly under his breath in reply before taking a swig and passing the bottle back. Althea taking a swig of her own before pouring a small amount to the cut, giving Arthur an apologetic look as she pressed the towel back against it gently. Taking a moment to inspect his hands – knuckles busted open and bloody – for any broken bones. Satisfied when she found nothing to be out of place, she turned to face Ada, who had been standing next to the older woman she had yet to meet, looking rather anxious as they spoke in hushed tones.

“Would you mind fetchin’ me two bowls? Fill one with water, leave the second empty.” Ada nodded and disappeared for a few moments, returning quickly with the requested items and setting them on the table. Althea gave her a kind smile in return and reached for a small piece of clean cloth which she dipped into the water, wringing the excess from it before holding it out for Ada to take. Her dark eyes questioning as she accepted, waiting for further instruction.

“Clean the cuts on his hands carefully.” Althea instructed calmly as she pulled a needle and thread from her medical box; threading it through the eye shakily before tying it off at the end. “Once you’ve finished, ‘old each hand over the empty bowl, pour a little Whiskey on wounds an’ let it dry.” She paused as she reached into her box for another roll of clean bandages. “Then wrap ‘em with this.” 

Ada set to work immediately then, no questions asked. The tension and nervousness slowly fading from her posture as she busied her mind with something other than over thinking the situation at hand. A method Althea had used many times during the war with the younger Nurses, who were new to the field. Watching carefully from the corner of her eye as she worked carefully to stitch the wound above Arthur’s brow, praising her here and there as she worked to keep her own movements slow and gentle. Stilling her hands the best she could from shaking, aiming to inflict the least amount of pain possible, not that Arthur complained much. 

“Hell of’a job y’er doin’.” Arthur piped up, grabbing the bottle of whiskey off the table with the hand Ada had just finished wrapping. “Can’t ‘ardly feel it.” Althea gave a half smile, pausing briefly to take a pull off the bottle he offered before handing it back and resuming her work carefully. The shakes subsiding ever so slightly.

“I was famed f’er havin’ a delicate touch durin’ the war.” She replied with a small smile. John snorted from across the room at her answer, Althea raising a brow in his direction. 

“Wha? I’ve seen those ‘ands throw a punch.” He spoke up, that usual cheeky grin of his slowly creeping onto his lips. “They ain’ always so gentle.”

“John!” Ada snapped, looking up from working on Arthur’s hand to glare at her brother. “Don’t be rude.” Althea chuckled softly and dismissed the comment with a shake of her head.

“He’s a point.” She chimed in as she carefully tied off the last suture, snipping the end with a small pair of scissors. “The men use’ta joke, sayin’ I wasn’ fragile like a flower, like most women…I was fragile like a bomb.” several people in the room laughed lightly.

Tommy even quirked a grin from the corner where he stood, keeping a watchful eye –through a crack in the drawn curtains – on the darkened street outside. Though his gaze would occasionally drift here and there, observing Althea as she worked. Quick, and efficient, it wasn’t difficult to see how at ease she was when it came to working under pressure. Just as she had promised the day they first met her. But he hadn’t any doubts that dealing with his family was a stroll through the park compared to her years spent working the Western Fronts as a Combat Nurse…frowning suddenly as he recalled the scars that adorned her otherwise perfect skin.

Most ran in thick jagged lines, mixing with small patches of that appeared to be burned, creeping over her right shoulder and down onto her chest and upper arm. His jaw set in a hard line as his mind drifted to the pain she must have suffered…and not just physically; no. He knew she suffered the same torments of War that he did…maybe on different levels, but she was haunted by the same demons they all were after returning home.

You cover it up. Bury it as deep as you can…but it’s something you’re forced to live with day in and day out for the rest of eternity. Coping in a multitude of unhealthy ways just to get through the day, or simply to buy yourself a few hours of sleep. He’d seen his fair share of death; caused even more. But he couldn’t imagine baring the burden of physically holding someones life in the palm of your hand. Struggling to save men you did not know, all while simultaneously putting your own life at risk day in and day out.

A burden that must be to bare indeed.

It was somewhere after Two in the morning by the time Althea finished cleaning up. Most of the injuries following John and Arthur had been superficial. A few broken fingers to set, a busted nose and some minor cuts and bruises. Ada’s assistance was more than helpful, but it all took time. Especially the younger boys who’d gotten involved, that couldn’t stop whining. Althea purposely taking twice as long for her own enjoyment. Her fingers bordering on numb by the time she had finished, barely able to strike a match to light the cigarette between her lips as she sat down. Exhaling and closing her eyes for a moment, enjoying the silence as most everyone had passed out or found their way to bed.

“How’s it look?” She heard the older woman ask in a low tone as she approached Tommy. He was still fixed by the window, still as a statue, icy blues fixed to the darkened streets. 

“Like too many fuckin’ coppers are snoopin’ about.” He replied. A tired frown fixed to his face as he stepped away from the window. The woman nodding before turning to Althea who had leaned forward to extinguish the last of her cigarette. 

“You can stay ‘ere for the night.” She spoke up, gaining Althea’s attention, raising a hand to silence her before she could even think of protesting the offer. 

“Arguin’ is pointless, so save it. It’s the least I can offer after what you did for us ‘ere tonight. Now,Thomas, be a gentleman and give her y’er room eh?” And just like that, she was gone in a blink, leaving only Tommy and Althea behind in the fading glow of the living room.

“Pol hates everyone at first.” Tommy broke the silence, as if reading her mind. “You get use to it.” 

“That’s reassuring.” Althea replied quietly with a roll her eyes as she pushed herself up from the couch. Trying to ignore the aching in her feet and back as she collected her medical box from the table.

“C’mon then.” Tommy nodded his head toward the stairs, leading her up and down the hallway to one of many doors that lined it. Pushing the door open it and gesturing for her to enter first before closing it behind them quietly. 

“You can take the bed.” Tommy cleared his throat, breaking the silence again as he lit a lamp on the bedside table. Althea nodded but remained quiet as she placed her things down and slipped out of her shoes. The bed was the most inviting thing she’d seen in hours and she longed to collapse backwards onto it, giving in to the throws of exhaustion. But she remained in the middle of the room, watching as Tommy took a seat at a small table in the corner. Things remaining unnervingly silent between them as he sparked a match to light the cigarette that hung between those perfect lips of his. 

Althea watching quietly as the shadows casting about the room from the lamp danced across his sharp features. His jaw was set in a hard line and his brows furrowed together with worry, his thumb tracing over the split on his lower lip absentmindedly before he took another drag from his cigarette. Staring out the window into the night as if it held the answers he was searching for, and only further adding to the mysterious allure that drew her in a little more each time she looked at him. 

Althea swallowed dryly, rubbing a tired hand across her face before reaching up and pulling the tie from her hair. Dark locks tumbling past her shoulders freely as she shifted to remove her apron, pulling it free from her waist and tossing it on to the bed. Quietly, she rummaged through her medical box and pulled out some clean cloth, grabbing the whiskey and lamp from the nightstand before approaching Tommy where he sat.

“I owe you an apology.” She spoke quietly as she placed the items on the table, adjusting the light, feeling that icy blue gaze of his drift from the window to her form already fixed on her form that now stood beside him. “My actions since that night have been…inexcusable.”

“You don’ have to apologize.” Tommy piped up with a sigh, smoke rolling past his lips as Althea’s gaze snapped up, brows furrowing together at his sudden interruption.

“I do.” She retorted with a frown, uncorking the Whiskey bottle a little harsher than intended as she wet the piece of cloth in her hand. Tommy not objecting as her fingers found their way beneath his chin as she tipped it upward, gently brushing the cloth over the cuts the adorned his face, one by one as she cleaned them. Listening carefully as she continued to ramble on nervously as she worked.

“You’ve been nothin’ but kind since we met. I jus’ – it caught me off guard…when you kissed me…an’ I’ve not treated you fairly; an’ f’er that, I am deeply sorry.” She sighed heavily, pausing as Tommy’s fingers closed gently around her wrist, stilling her work on his lower lip for a moment so he could speak.

“Apology accepted.” Tommy replied simply, blue eyes gazing up, searching hers carefully. “My actions were impulsive and not to be excused either. So, you could say I owe you an apology as well.” He offered, Althea looked down at him with a half smile and a playful roll of her green eyes.

“Truce?” He offered, his grip loosening but still lingering around her wrist. 

“How abou’ you jus’ ask next time?” She replied jokingly, chuckling softly with a shake of her head.

“Can I kiss you?” He replied, deep voice laced with a hint of amusement as he tried to stave off the grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Now y’er jus’ pressing y’er luck.” She laughed softly, pulling her hand free of his own as it fell away. 

“Is that a no then?” He pressed lightly, tongue darting out slowly across his lower lip expectantly as she leaned forward; face only inches away from his own as she held his gaze for a few brief moments, leaning forward to close the gap only to divert at the last second to blow out the flame of the lamp. 

“Goodnigh’, Tommy.” She spoke lowly as she brushed her lips past his ear, pulling away. The small playful grin that graced her lips momentarily visible, even in the dark as she turned towards the bed to settle in for the night. Drifting into a restless, but dreamless sleep. A sense of calm sweeping over her as that watchful blue gaze settled on her. Making her feel as though she was the safest she had been in months…even if only for a night.


	6. Chapter 6

The sun had barely begun to light the cloud filled sky when Althea woke and began to gather her things. Careful that she didn’t wake Thomas who still resided in the chair where she had left him only a few hours prior. He had drawn the blazer of his suit around himself tightly in an attempt to stave off the chill that had settled in the room. His expression drawn, even in sleep. It made her frown, knowing all to well what he saw every time he closed his eyes. 

Sighing softly, she grabbed the thin blanket from his bed and covered him gently, his fingertips brushing across her hand as he subconsciously pulled the blanket closer. A small smile quirked at the corners of her lips as he relaxed a bit. Watching him for a minute longer before gathering up her medical box and coat; slipping out of the room silently as she tiptoed down the hall. 

“Leavin’ so soon?” Hand already on the door, Althea startled back at the sound of the voice. Whirling around to find the older woman from the night before standing in the doorway of the Parlor. A small grin on her face as she stared at Althea, one eyebrow quirked in curiosity.

“Sorry, I didn’ mean to wake anyone.” Althea replied. Suddenly feeling guilty for trying to sneak out…but at the same time, not wanting to overstay her welcome either.

“Nonsense.” The woman dismissed the apology with a wave. “I’m an early riser. I’ve been up awhile. Jus’ abou’ to have some coffee actually, if ye’d care for some?”

“Coffee sounds lovely, actually.” Althea gave a small nod, placing her things down by the door before following the other woman into the kitchen. Taking a seat at the table. Accepting the steaming hot mug with a thank you and a small smile. Sipping carefully at the bitter black liquid before setting aside.

“Polly Gray.” The older woman introduced as she took a seat opposite her. Giving a small smile of her own as she added a little cream and sugar to her own cup of coffee.

“Althea Bennett.” 

“So I’ve heard.” Polly said. Propping her elbows up against the edge of the table, her brow quirked as she studied the younger woman with a curious grin. Leaving Althea to raise a curious brow of her own.

“Oh?” She replied with a soft chuckle, before taking another sip of coffee. Her curiosity peaked as she waited for the older woman to continue.

“The boys haven’ stopped goin’ on since ye started at the Garrison.” Polly continued with a smile. “Specially Thomas…never shut’s up.”

“I find tha’ ‘ard to believe.” Althea chuckled at the thought. Given Thomas was usually a man of few words most of the time.

“So do I.” Polly laughed softly. “Ye’re quite the woman, from what I’ve heard.” 

“Well, I can assure you, I’m nothin’ special.” She dismissed with a shy laugh. Turning her attention to finishing her coffee in an attempt to avoid Polly’s scrutinizing gaze. Her dark eyes appearing to see straight through the facade Althea tried so hard to keep intact.

Polly sat back, still smiling as she watched Althea closely; but dropped the subject thankfully. Turing it instead to the topic of the new horse she had recently helped Thomas purchase.

“So, I ‘ear that new Stallion of Tommy’s is arrivin’ this afternoon? 

“Aye.” Althea nodded. “Was actually part’a the reason I was up so early…he’s a handful. Figured Curly’s gonna need all the help he can get.”

“Probably a wise decision.” Polly laughed. “Sorry if I’ve kept ye.”

“It’s quite alrigh’.” Althea smiled softly as she finished her coffee. “I appreciate the coffee.”

“Anytime.” Polly grinned. “John ‘ill take ye home. I’ll go fetch him.” Althea nodded as they stood. Making her way to the door and gathering her things while she waited for Polly and John to return. Not arguing against the escort, as it was still early, and one hell of a walk. 

“Thank you again, Polly.” She thanked once more before her and John stepped out into the brisk morning air. Polly giving a brief smile before closing the door behind them.

“She seems like’a nice girl.” 

“Aye.” Thomas replied as he rounded the corner, buttoning one of his sleeves as he entered the kitchen. But otherwise remaining quiet as he avoided the knowing gaze of his Aunt that was boring into him with the intensity of a thousand suns.

——————————-

It was pouring rain by the time Althea and John arrived at the Stables later that afternoon. Thankful he had picked her up in one of the cars upon his return, instead of walking. The transport truck coming into view as they approached, the unloading ramp toppled over as what appeared to be complete an total chaos unraveled around the yard.

The Stallion reared angrily as several stable hands tried to get a rope on him. Others fleeing from the wrath of his enormous hooves, seeking cover as he fought back; lashing out against his captors as he searched for a way out. 

“Stop the car!” Althea ordered before they could get any closer. John starting to argue, but was forced to slam of the brakes when she threw the door open and bailed out of the car. Running towards the out of control Stallion who had just found his opening, taking it as he barreled towards her head on. Bound and determined to take out anything in his path. 

Althea lost her footing as one of her boots caught in the mud, sending her to the ground as the horse continued to advance on her. John scrambling out of the car as Thomas’ own slid to a stop beside him. Not even bothering with the door as they raced toward Althea who had made it up on to her knees, raising her hands out above her head as she yelled.

“STOP!” 

The Stallion slid, his rear legs tucking beneath him as he tried to shut down his strides. Struggling to regain his own footing as he slid through the mud, Althea squeezing her eyes shut as he came to a stop just inches from her; rearing angrily as an eruption of noise sounded from one of the nearby factories. His hooves colliding with the ground, sending mud every where. His nostrils flaring and he whinnied out in distress. Althea pushing to her feet unsteadily as she reached out for him, grabbing onto the beasts halter with her left hand as she held her right out behind her to stop John’s advance, not realizing Thomas had arrived and already reluctantly done so.

“Easy boy..easy!” She spoke over the heavy rain fall as the horse tossed his head wildly. His senses overwhelmed by the plethora of new noises he wasn’t yet accustomed to.

“It’s alrigh’.” She soothed, stepping closer to the Stallion. One hand still on his halter as she struggled an arm out of her blouse; switching to the other side as she pulled it off and wrapped it around the horses head. Left only in her camisole, she ignored the freezing rain that pelted against her skin; her Jodhpurs and boots soaked heavily with mud and water as she stood, shivering. Stroking the Stallions neck as she tried to calm him.

“It’s jus’ noise.” She reassured calmly. Resting her forehead against his as she shushed him gently. “It’s jus’ noise, boy…jus’ noise. I got’ya.”

The horse nickered softly, his labored breathing slowing as he pushed his head against Althea’s; submitting as she tied the blouse in place around his eyes, allowing her to turn him carefully back towards the stables. Taking cautious steps beside her as she guided them carefully through the mud. The small crowed that had gathered stepping back to give them room as they entered the stable.

Althea nodding to Curly as he opened the stall door for her quietly, stepping back and allowing Thomas to take over as he entered. The Stallion spooking lightly at the sound of the latch clicking into place.

“Easy…” Althea encouraged as she reached up, settling her hands between the horses ears; gently applying pressuring to his poll as he lowered his head. Tucking his legs under as she guided him down, heaving a sign as he finally laid over. Althea moving with him to untie the blouse from around his eyes…stroking his forehead gently as he relaxed.

“Ye’re safe ‘ere…I promise.” She assured with a final pat before pushing herself to her feet. The Stallion sitting up, but remaining somewhat calm as she exited the stall. Venturing a little ways down the walk before a hand reached out to gently gasp her by the elbow, pulling her to a stop as Thomas stepped into view.

“Ye’re hurt.” He stated as he looked down at her, watching as she dismissed the comment with a shake of her head. The pain of her injury still blocked by the adrenaline that surged through her body. Thomas sighed.

“Allow me to reiterate.” He reached out to grasp her left wrist gently, pulling it up to expose the deep gash on her forearm. Blood mixing with the droplets of water that dripped steadily from her hair and clothes; hitting the floor in tiny pools of Crimson.

“Ye’re bleeding.”

“Oh…” Her brows furrowed together as she stared at the injury blanky. Remaining still as Thomas pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. Tying it around the wound before slipping his duster off and pulling it around her shoulders.

“C’mon…let’s go get ye warmed up, eh?” 

Althea nodded, allowing him to wrap his arm around her shoulders and guide her out to his car that was now sat idling by the entrance. Helping her inside before they sped off towards the Garrison. The ride silent as Thomas watched her out of the corner of his eye. Her expression having gone completely blank, as if she’d suddenly been pulled off into some far distant memory.

“Jesus bloody Christ, wha’ the hell happened?!” Arthur dropped what he’d been doing as watched his brother guide Althea into the pub.

“Bit of a situation w’ith the new Stallion.” Thomas replied as he snatched the key to his room and a bottle of whiskey from behind the bar. “She went down pretty hard, but she’ll be al’righ. Ye still got tha’ medical kit?”

“Aye.” Arthur disappeared for a moment before returning, handing the small medical box over. Eyeing Althea with a concerned expression before turning to his brother. “Holler if ye need an’thin’.” 

Thomas nodded, thanking Arthur before he guided them through the back and up to one of the empty rooms. Sitting Althea carefully at the table before moving to get a fire going. Gathering up a basin, some clean linens and a bowl of water before returning to the table and lighting up a cigarette.

“Al’righ, love.” He sighed, taking a seat in front of her as he pushed the duster away from her left shoulder; tucking it across her waist as she still shivered. “Let’s ‘ave a look at that arm.” 

Carefully he untied the handkerchief from her arm, exposing the wound for him to inspect as he exhaled a puff of air from his cheeks; brows raised as he studied it. The bleeding had slowed enough, but it would still likely require stitches. Something he wasn’t fond of, but could manage if necessary. Uncorking the bottle of whiskey, he guided her arm over the empty basin and poured the alcohol over the wound. 

Her green eyes shifted to watch his movements, but Althea never once flinched as he cleaned the wound. Not making any real movements at all – save for her shivering – until he began to suture the wound closed. Althea plucking the cigarette from between his lips as she took a long, and much needed, pull. The nicotine helping to ease the tension in her body slightly.

“Welcome back.” Thomas stated, careful not to take his eyes off her arm as he pulled another stitch through. “Ye al’righ?” Althea nodded, taking another pull before she answered.

“Memories…” 

“Happen of’en?” He asked casually, quirking a brow at her in question as he looked up briefly; pausing for a moment to take a drag off the cigarette she held out for him.

“More of’en than I’d like to admit…” Thomas gave an understanding nod at her response but didn’t press. “I jus’…wha’ happened with the horse? …” She trailed off as Thomas tied off the last stitch, cleaning away residual blood from her arm before bandaging it.

“The horses … from the war?” He finished for her as he grabbed the bottle of whiskey, taking a pull before passing it over. She nodded with a solemn expression before taking a sip from the bottle herself. Watching as Thomas stood to tidy up a bit, crossing the room to a small dresser where he pulled out one of his shirts.

“I never got used to it either.” He held out the shirt for her take. “Ye should change, make yer’self comfortable an’ get warm.” He gestured to bed beside the fireplace. 

“I’ll go see about findin’ somthin’ta eat.” 

Althea sighed as she watched him leave the room; the sudden absence making her chest grow tight with anxiety for a moment. The feeling soon replaced by the chill that seeped into her bones. Shivering as she stood, shedding out of her wet clothes and slipping into the shirt that Thomas had lent her. Drawing the collar up to her nose as she inhaled deeply, warm hints of amber and tobacco filling her senses as she closed her eyes for a moment before she allowed the shirt to fall away from her nose as she hugged her arms around her.

She made her way to bed, pulling back the blankets and climbing under them. Burrowing into the old tick mattress as she stared into the flames of the fire place. The shivering eased a little after few minutes, but not entirely as her body temperature struggled to return to normal. 

Enough time had eventually passed that she began to question if Thomas was actually planning on coming back. Almost drifting off to sleep as the bustle outside began to die down as evening neared. The sound of the door being opened drawing her back to consciousness as she sat up. Wiggling her fingers out the end of the sleeves as she rubbed at her eyes. 

“Sorry I took so long…had some business I got pulled into.” Thomas apologized as he set a tray on the table. Althea waved her hand in dismissal as she climbed out of bed, the shirt falling past mid thigh as she stood. Thomas averting his gaze and clearing his throat as she approached and took a seat.

“Thank you, Tommy.” She spoke gently as he handed her a cup of tea. 

“Consider it returnin’ a favor.” He replied, his lips quirking into a small smile as he slid a bowl of stew across the table for her as he took his own seat. 

Comfortable silence falling between them while until they had finished eating. Althea helping herself to another cup of tea before moving to stare out the window, watching as the rain still poured heavily from the sky. Clutching the warm cup close as she still struggled to get warm.

The clink of dishes being picked up catching her attention as she turned, watching as Thomas placed everything except the tea back onto the tray he had carried it in on. A sudden thought crossing her mind and escaping her mouth before she could stop it as he reached to grab his coat.

“Are you coming back?” 

Thomas paused at the unexpectedness of her question, retracting his hand from his coat as they stared at each other momentarily. Althea immediately regretting her words, about to apologize when his response silenced her.

“Do you wan’ me too?” 

Althea chewed her bottom lip lightly, remaining quiet as she thought for a moment before nodding her head in reply as she turned away from the window. 

“I’d greatly appreciate the company.” She stated softly. “If it’s not any trouble?” 

“’Course not.” He replied, attempting to hide the faint hint of a smirk that threatened to creep onto his lips. “Lemme take this back downstairs…grab some more wood f’er the fire. I’ll be back.” 

He took the tray and disappeared from the room again. Althea extinguishing all the lamps but one before climbing back into the bed and settling down. The majority of the light in the room now coming from the soft glowing flicker of the fire place. A soft sigh escaping as she listened to the rain pelt against the windowpane. 

The door opened a few minutes later as Thomas returned with an armload of fire wood. Kicking the door closed with his foot before crossing the room to place everything on the hearth. Adding more wood to the fire before settling in one of the arm chairs across the room. Althea rolling to face him, watching as the shadows cast by the fire danced across his face.

“You don’ have’ta sleep in the chair, ye know?” She stated quietly. Thomas quirking an eyebrow at her, almost as if waiting for her to say she was joking. But she remained silent, green eyes fixed on his expectantly; Thomas moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Althea scooting over to make room, watching from the corner of her eye as he removed his shoes and stripped down to his boxer shorts before slipping beneath the covers.

“Christ, ye’re bloody freezing.” 

“Mmh…and ye’re warm.” Althea replied, scooting closer the warmth that was radiating off of him.

“Not anymore.” He chuckled sarcastically, wrapping an arm around her and drawing the covers tighter around them as he rested his cheek against the top of her head. A contented sigh escaping her lips as she drifted off. His hand moving to tuck a few stray stands of her dark hair behind her ear as he closed his own eyes.

“Sleep well, Thea.”


End file.
